Chapter 11

Karen gripped the cross-shaped tire iron and watched the fury that was being unleashed in front of her. She'd never seen anything like it. Dean moved with a grace and beauty that was worthy of a dancer as he darted in and out, hitting the killer with blows to rival any boxing champion. At first, he'd clearly had the upper hand and Karen had gone so far as to relax slightly. All Dean needed to do was to distance himself a bit from Smith, and Frannie would be able to get a clear shot.

Problem was, Smith apparently realized this as well, and he seemed twice as determined to stay within arms reach of the taller man at every moment. That left Frannie wringing her hands, figuratively, and Dean getting the crap beat out of him. Though he was holding his own, Karen had no doubt it was temporary, not even he would be able to ignore the beating he was taking forever.

Left with little choice and only one real hope, Karen drew back the weapon she held and moved closer to the fight. So far, Smith had been too intent on staying close to Dean, to bother with the knife that had dropped to the ground after Carl's disappearance. All that however changed in a blink as Smith suddenly ducked one of Dean's fists and dropped to the ground. In a flash, the blade was once again in his hand and he was stabbing the air where Dean's head had been only seconds ago.

Karen inched nearer. Seeing Smith armed only increased her sense of urgency. Though it wasn't too obvious yet, she'd noticed that Dean was starting to lag slightly. It was bound to happen as he battled the spirit, but the sight of it was scary as hell. Twice Smith came so close, Karen was sure he'd drawn blood from the sandy-haired hunter.

Sensing an opening almost more than seeing one, Karen readied herself for attack. Just as she was about to swing, Melanie darted past her, drawing the brunette's attention. Karen pulled the blow and instead turned to watch her friend slide to a stop before the cooler where Sam was no doubt slowly suffocating.

Just then, a sharp pain cut through Karen's arm drawing her attention once more to the fight that was being waged only steps from her. Smith loomed above her, his knife already dripping with her blood as he seized hold of her arm that still gripped the tire-iron. Dean lay silent and still on the floor just behind the killer. "Let me go," Karen screamed as Smith ground the bones in her wrist.

The agony of her wrist far outweighed the pain of the cut in her forearm that was still dripping blood onto the grey tile floor. Unable to maintain her grip, Karen dropped the weapon as he continued to squeeze. The pain was unlike any she'd felt before, her stomach rolled in protest and she was suddenly afraid she was going to be sick.

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Dean saw the moment he lost the fight in one moment of clarity. It all came down to the fact that he ducked when he should have dodged. Smith took advantage of the elder Winchester's mistake and hit him for all he was worth. The blow dropped the hunter to the ground, stunning him long enough for Smith to make a move on Karen. Lying prone on the floor, Dean gasped for breath as he watched helplessly while the killer's knife slipped down Karen's forearm.

Karen didn't even seem to notice the cut, she did however let out a blood chilling yell as Smith grabbed her wrist, trying to force her to drop the tire iron she held tight in her hands. It was the sound of her weapon hitting the floor that gave Dean the strength to push himself up and onto his knees.

Intent on going after the spirit once more, his attention was instead captured by a loud crash. With a curse he turned, expecting to see the worse, and found Melanie attacking the glass door of the cooler with the tire iron she held in her hands. It took only a minute for Dean to realize just what the redhead was thinking, he couldn't help but be impressed. If iron could be used against Smith, it stood to reason that it was one of the few substances that could break the spirit's hold on Sam's prison.

Determined to do his part, Dean groaned as he gained his feet. Smith's attention was now fully focused on Melanie, so much so his grip on Karen had slackened slightly. The brunette was doing her dead-level best to take advantage of the lapse. Over and over again she kicked at the killer, landing solid blows to Smiths legs as she yanked at the hand that was manacled around her wrist.

Dean was very nearly on top of them both when Karen managed to kick out at the tire iron that had landed near her feet. The weapon slid toward Dean coming to rest near his boots just as Smith yanked on Karen's trapped arm, pulling her with him.

Karen had no recourse but to follow, though she did it under protest the whole way. Dean had to admit she took stubborn to a whole new level as she forced Smith to drag her kicking and screaming toward where Maggie still worked to free Sam. Frannie, in the meantime, had her weapon raised and was tracking the killer as if just waiting for the opportunity to blow him away. Dean could clearly see Fran's expression and he had no doubt the woman would fire if she got the chance.

Problem was she needed an opportunity. Grabbing up Karen's discarded weapon, Dean lunged toward the killer intent on stopping him. In the moment just before he was about to swing the iron at Smith, the spirit flickered and disappeared. The lights then sputtered once and went out. The darkness enveloped them all for a moment making movement nearly impossible. As he tried to get his bearings, he heard the sound of shattering glass.

"Sam!" he shouted needing to hear that his brother was okay. The lights had come back on, but the overhead fluorescents were dim and sputtered slightly

"I'm 'k," Sam called out at last, sounding a bit breathless.

Sam's reassurance was enough to make Dean weak with relief. Forcing his knees to work, Dean headed straight for his brother. As he wound his way around the restaurant, it became obvious that Smith was losing power on the Panhandle. The weak lighting wasn't the only thing that had changed. The restaurant was nearly unrecognizable from its earlier condition, instead, it finally resembled the abandoned building it actually was.

The flowered wallpaper was hanging from the walls in strips and the tile floor was covered in years worth of debris. The booths had rotted away in places, and water damage was evident just about everywhere. A stink permeated the place reminding Dean of a crypt that had been sealed for decades. Seeing this version of the Panhandle and comparing it to how it looked only ten minutes ago only served to emphasize the tragedy that had taken place.

Dean's reflection on the restaurant's condition was abruptly cut off when his emerald gaze met his brother's warm hazel eyes. A slight smile tugged at the corner's of his lips as he called out to Fran, "Keep your eyes open." Then, at last, he was at his brother's side.

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Sam drew in a deep breath concentrating on little more than filling his lungs with the oxygen rich air that whooshed in through the ragged hole that was once the door. The fresh air was more than a little welcome, the inside of the cooler had begun to feel stale and he'd begun to seriously consider the worst. Even as he had watched Melanie attack the glass door with the tire iron, he'd been certain that she was going to fail. So certain, in fact, he'd nearly jumped out of his skin when metal met door with a loud twang.

After that first fissure was created the spider web of cracks had grown with each blow. The redhead, showing stamina that Sam couldn't help but find impressive, just kept hitting over and over again with no regard to what was going on around her. Sam had silently cheered her on, at least he had until the door shattered inward. Glass shards had hit the younger Winchester hard, though luckily only a few drew blood. He really just couldn't find it in himself to care, as he took that first breath. As Melanie carefully worked to widen the opening, the lights flickered off and then back on throwing the restaurant into sharp relief once more.

"It's gonna be okay, Sam," Melanie panted as she cleared the last of the glass. Gesturing to Frannie, both woman reached into the box offering help to the younger man.

Sam couldn't feel his feet, in fact, the numbness had climbed up his thighs as well. He stared at the women who so earnestly waited to help him gain his feet and very nearly rolled his eyes. "Where's Dean?" he muttered as he stretched his arms out carefully.

"Sam!" Dean suddenly shouted as if in answer to Sam's question.

"Come on, Sam, we'll help you out," Frannie said, as she tugged a bit on the younger Winchester trying to get him moving.

"I'm 'k," he called out to his brother as he struggled to get out and not put too much weight on the woman.

"It's okay, Sam, we gotcha," Melanie reassured as she dragged his arm over her shoulder.

It wasn't easy, and certainly not pretty, but before long the two woman were helping him to stretch out on the dirty tile floor. Sam couldn't help but groan as the blood returned to his lower limbs.

The sound of a footfall on the dirt encrusted floor had Sam looking up to meet his brother's worried gaze. Offering the older man a slight smile, Sam felt a bit more tension drain out of his frame. Dean looked none the worse for wear despite being flung across the room, Sam held up his hand silently asking for Dean's help.

His confinement in the refrigerator had left every muscle in his body aching. The numbness that had been his blessing earlier had swiftly become his curse once he was free to move. The pain was fading fast, but he had little doubt that without his brother's help he'd have next to no chance of gaining his feet.

Standing was the only thing that Sam could think of at the moment. To be on his feet, his long limbs stretched to the maximum, was all that mattered. Smith, the echoes, even the girls could wait just long enough for him to gain back his composure. Having his big brother by his side went a long way to doing just that. Breathing deep and concentrating on little more than forcing away the pain caused by his confinement, Sam worked on easing the tension that gripped his brother's solid frame.

"I'm okay, Dean, really."

Dean nodded and remained by Sam's side, his grip tight on the younger Winchester's arm. "'Course you are."

The two of them shared a moment more of silence before his brother seemed to deem Sam fit enough to stand on his own. Though the elder hunter dropped his grip, he stayed put close, his shoulder pressed against Sam's own. Sam took comfort in the touch. Ever since the ripe old age of fourteen, when Sam had decided he was too old for hugs, Dean had taken to offering physical comfort in just such a way. Whether the contact was knee to knee as they talked, or sitting side by side just barely touching, it offered Sam a reassurance that little else did.

As Dean's overly tense frame began to relax inch by inch, Sam couldn't help but think he wasn't the only one that took comfort in the touch. With a groan, he straightened even more and nodded. "I'm good, Dean. What the hell happened?"

At his words, his brother rolled his shoulders once, his expression changing in a blink from worried to angry. "Son of a bitch had Karen and was gonna put an end to Melanie's little operation freedom idea, when he just blanked out."

Sam's gaze was drawn to where the three women stood shoulder to shoulder. Karen held the middle spot, her right arm cradled in Frannie's hands, and the blonde seemed to be fussing about something. Dried blood stained the front of Karen's tee-shirt and she looked unusually pale. "What happened to Karen?" Sam asked nodding toward the trio.

"Smith," Dean spat the word as he moved to approach the ladies.

Sam couldn't help but appreciate the fact that his brother held his normally long stride in check in deference to Sam's slightly slower pace. He wasn't quite ready to relinquish Dean's presence at his side. The feeling that Smith's disappearance was only a harbinger to something worse wouldn't leave him. With a sigh, Sam pushed himself to go faster, it was past time for them to re-group.

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"Aw, crap I think I'm gonna barf," Frannie whispered as she took Karen's mangled arm in her own and pressed a scrap of cloth to her forearm.

Karen drew in a swift breath as a bolt of nausea threatened to overtake her.

Fran swiftly apologized, "Sorry. I need to stop the bleeding."

Karen swallowed thickly and replied, "Naw, wasn't that, just don't bring up…you know…again."

"Nice choice of words," Melanie said with a nervous giggle.

Frannie shot Melanie a hard glance as Karen went even paler. "You need to sit down?" she questioned as the brunette swayed slightly.

"'m good. Just in need of a change of topic," Karen implored, blood she could handle, the pain in her arm was manageable, but even the idea of vomiting would be enough to lay her low.

"Well, I'll be honest, I have no clue how bad you're hurt, but, your wrist looks like it was caught in a vise," Frannie said as she carefully examined the long, cut on her friends arm, and her bruised wrist.

"Thanks, Doctor Quinn, for the diagnosis," Dean said as he came to a halt in front of Karen. He held out one strong hand and waited for Karen to make a decision. A single glance at the compassion she could read in his eyes was enough to make Karen turn her hand over to the hard man before her.

His large, strong hands were calloused but never rough as he glided them over Karen's battered wrist. She couldn't help but gasp as he manipulated the bones beneath causing the dull, aching, throb to become a sharp, screaming pain.

"Sorry," he muttered as he released her wrist and lifted up the makeshift pad that Frannie had covered the cut with. "Sam, find me the first aid kit," Dean called out as he examined the wound that ran from the crease in her arm to disappear in the bruising at her wrist.

As Sam returned to his side with the first aid kit in hand, the younger Winchester asked, "You going to have to stitch it?"

Karen opened her eyes wide and glanced down at the wound she'd so far avoided looking at. Dean's head blocked most of her view as he was bent over her arm, but she saw enough to leave her fighting back the bile once more.

At the younger man's words, Melanie gave a little hiccup and cleared her throat. "Stitch it? She needs a doctor. You can't just stitch the flaps of skin back together like it's a rip in a pair of jeans."

"Actually, he can," Sam countered as his shaggy brown head bent to examine the wound. "Dean's got a hell of a steady hand. She'd be better off with him than some country bumpkin doctor. I doubt she'd end up with much of a scar."

"But what about infection, I mean you can't counter something like that here. God knows that knife he's carrying around probably has every type of infection known to man, she'll end up with a wound full of pus and they'll have to re-open it to drain—"

"Whoa now, I gotcha," Dean murmured as Karen's legs buckled.

Frannie moved to help hold her friend steady, only to be shoved out of the way as Dean tucked one arm under Karen's knees and another behind her shoulders. With an ease that bore witness to just how much muscle was hidden under his coat, he lifted the woozy girl up and moved toward one of the booths.

"Sam," Dean barked.

Karen forced back the black spots that danced at the edge of her vision as she sagged against Dean's rock-hard chest. In the back of her mind she understood that Melanie was trying to defend her, but all she could focus one was the woman's choice of wording. Words like pus, and drain were the last things she wanted to hear as she struggled mightily to not throw-up on Dean.

Dean seemed to understand her struggle. "Listen, Kar, if you're gonna toss your dinner then give me a bit of warning. I learned long ago that no woman's worth getting puked on."

Dean's words actually shocked a weak chuckle out of Karen and she relaxed just a fraction more. "Trust me, I'm doing everything I can to keep from ruining your jacket," she whispered as she kept her eyes tightly closed.

"Deep breaths," he replied, "just take deep breaths."

Karen decided that was some of the best advice she'd gotten all day. It didn't hurt that the deep breaths pulled in the delicious scent of the handsome man whose chest her cheek rested against. Dean smelled of leather, with a slight hint of aftershave and a touch of what she thought was gunpowder thrown in for good measure. As she fought to keep the contents of her stomach in place she made a mental note to do a little aftershave shopping for her hubby. She vaguely wondered if she could try one of those create-a-perfumes to try and mimic the scent.

It was the jolt of being set down on a table top that brought her out of her musings and reminded her of just how bad her arm hurt. Frannie was by her side in moments holding on to her good hand and making soothing noises. Karen sought to reassure her friend, "I'm okay, Fran, honest. As long as Melanie stops trying to defend me I'll be just fine."

"No worries there," Frannie replied as she gestured toward Melanie.

Melanie and Sam stood toe to toe, it looked as if they were ready to square off, but Karen had the feeling trading punches wasn't what either one was thinking of at this moment. They both leaned toward each other, the space between their bodies negligible, as they stared hard at one another.

"Now, he decides to take my advice," Dean muttered.

"Melanie," Karen snapped as she watched the redhead lean up on her toes just a bit.

"Sam," Dean barked at the same time reminding the lanky youth that they had other priorities at the moment.

Both Sam and Melanie jumped a mile, they're guilty faces flushing slightly as they studiously moved away from each other. Sam glanced down at the first aid kit he still held in his hands and flushed even more and muttered, "Coming."

Melanie also seemed to realize she was slacking on the job as she hurried to Karen's side. "You okay, Karen?"

Karen exchanged a long glance with Frannie, both of them grinning in amusement as she finally answered, "Apparently I'm not doing as well as you, but I'll live."

Melanie grinned slightly and tossed a wink toward Sam. "He is just absolutely yummy."

Frannie sighed a tiny bit and gave Dean a casual once over. "Yup, yummy just about sums it up."

Karen was about to agree when a sharp tug on her arm caused her to cry out, "Ow."

"Sorry," Dean muttered as he set about cleaning out the cut. "I'm just gonna get you cleaned up and then I think I'll glue it shut. It shouldn't take more than that. You'll barely have a scar."

No longer able to push back the pain, Karen bit her lip and worked on keeping her cries to a minimum.

Author Notes: Okay just one more chapter to go. I'll post it tomorrow. Thanks to those reading and reviewing, I'm glad you've enjoyed - Kel